in this light and on this evening
by frizzoli
Summary: when it happens, it happens by accident. j/m. post 'remember me', mild m for sex that's just a cut above fade to black. just a oneshot- if you're craving more, take a look at my other stuff! reviews appreciated.


When it happens, it happens by accident.

It's the kind of accident, though, that doesn't feel like an accident when it happens. It doesn't even feel like a surprise. It doesn't feel like anything out of the ordinary at all, it just…happens.

And Maura happens along with it.

It's about five minutes after her mother and father leave before they bump into each other in their quest to clean up her apartment. They don't just brush by each other, though, Jane's head is turned, so when she bumps Maura she really _bumps_ her. Maura totters slightly, not in any real danger of falling, but Jane reaches out to catch her anyway. Because that's what Jane does; that's what they do for each other, they _save _one another.

Which reminds her that she saved Maura's life today. And her hands don't leave Maura's waist like they should, because _then_ she remembers the gun at her stomach and the rush of air leaving her lungs. She remembers Maura's face in the moments before her eyes closed and Frost telling her how Maura was the only one who could slow the bleeding so that the ambulance wouldn't get there too late.

They save each other. It's what they do. And when their lips meet, they're doing just that. Maura lurches toward Jane gasping like she's drowning and Jane is dry ground. Jane's hands fist into Maura's blazer and she pulls, pulls until they're front to front, breast to breast, hip to hip. Maura fits perfectly against her. And, perhaps surprisingly, she kisses back with equal force. She pushes where Jane pulls, gives where Jane is inclined to take.

And, God, that is just so _Maura_. To give without question, because there is no question to ask. Jane is overwhelmed with sentimentality and affection, and adrenaline, and something that she's terrified might be….love.

There is an extended period of time where they don't part, not even for breath. Maura's hands are on either side of Jane's face, and when they do finally pull apart, her fingers move over the bandage on Jane's neck. Her eyes shift from there to Jane's lips, then to Jane's eyes, where they rest. Neither of them speak. After a while, Jane's hands slip beneath Maura's blazer. Through the thin pale-pink fabric of her button-down, Jane feels the shift of Maura's ribs as she breathes, and then the breathing stops again when Maura tilts her chin up and they're kissing once more.

Jane's shirt is unbuttoned by the time they reach the bedroom door. They pause for a moment and Maura slips it over her shoulders, her blazer quickly following suit. Jane's lips leave Maura's to kiss a trail along her jaw and throat, but she ends up encountering Maura's matching bandage and that throws her completely off-balance, so much so that she just stands, dumbly, until Maura backs away a foot or two.

She almost lost Maura today. She could have lost Maura today. Beyond that, she failed Maura today- failed to protect her from Hoyt's filthy touch, and now Maura will be marked with his psychosis for the rest of her life. _My fault,_ Jane thinks, reaching out to mirror Maura's earlier touch, her breath catching when Maura barely flinches at her gentle touch. Somehow the clean bandage makes everything seem worse, not better, not taken care of.

Maura unbuttons her own shirt and lets it fall to the ground before reaching for Jane again, and this time, Jane reaches back.

The sheets warm against their skin within seconds. Jane has never realized how small Maura really is, until her hands are everywhere and Maura is _letting_ her hands be everywhere. She's not sure how long ago it was when she realized that she was daydreaming- and nightdreaming- about this. About yoga-strong muscles beneath satin skin and soft, sweet lips against the crook of her neck. It had never occurred to her that this might happen, but as she rolls them over and pins Maura beneath her she recognizes that this was, in many ways, inevitable.

Jane moves southward, avoiding Hoyt's mark and determined to heal it some way or another. She discovers that Maura is freckly, which is both sweet and sexy. Those freckles Jane follows from one shoulder to right above Maura's heart, which is beating so rapidly that for a moment she wonders if something's wrong. Then Maura's fingers thread into her hair, tugging pleasantly, and Jane forgets all about heartbeats and freckles and anything but the taste of Maura's skin.

It quickly becomes her goal to taste every inch of that skin, and that goal draws her lower, until she finds herself hesitating briefly between Maura's legs, not to tease but because she's not sure exactly what Maura wants.

The answer becomes very, _very_ clear, very, _very_ quickly. When all is said and done and Maura is quivering beneath her, Jane rears up and hovers over her. Her patience is rewarded when Maura blinks open hazy eyes and smiles at her, as if let in on a secret she never dared to hope she'd understand. Jane drops her lips to the smooth, inviting expanse of Maura's neck, and on the side not marred by Hoyt's handiwork, she leaves her own mark with more tender affection than she has ever been able to muster for another human being in her entire 36 years of life.

"Jane."

Maura is the one to break the silence, but that's no surprise. Jane makes a vague noise, too absorbed in the satisfaction of desire to care much about anything else. "Jane," Maura sighs again, "is this about Hoyt?"

Just like that Jane jerks away enough to look Maura in the eye, or try to, her brows drawing together in suspicion and the precursors to hurt and denial.

"What?"

Maura somehow manages to look entirely composed, even as she shatters every assumption Jane has made within the past hour. "I'm glad I could help," Maura says, kindly. "Sexual catharsis is a very satisfying way to purge yourself of a traumatic event."

Jane's mouth falls open and she wants to laugh or cry but does neither. "Maura, I…"

"Oh, you don't have to explain it to me. It's actually fairly simple psychology. You and Hoyt were involved in a very intense, intimate power struggle. It was important for you to…restake your claim and take back control of your life ."

"Is that…what you think this is about? Is that the kind of person you think I am?"  
Maura has the gall to look confused, which only drives the pain deeper. It's clear she means no harm, but Jane doesn't really care. "Jane…"

She avoids eye contact by moving herself to the edge of the bed, where she sits with her face in her hands and tries to quiet the hundreds of thoughts that suddenly overtake her. She laughs, a short, bitter sound, because there's nothing left for her to do. "Son of a bitch."

Maura is silent.

"Jesus. I understand now why you refuse to guess."

"I'm sorry?"

Jane doesn't answer, so Maura sits up, holding the blanket against her. "Did I offend you?" she asks, reaching out for Jane with one hand. Jane doesn't shrug her away, but she doesn't physically respond, either. "_Offend_ me?" Jane scoffs, shaking her head, turning to make eye contact again. "No. No, you…" and just like that, the fight goes out of her. It's not Maura's fault that she misinterpreted. And maybe things will be easier this way- it's an easy way, at least, to get out of explaining herself. Let Maura be right. "It's fine. Go to sleep."

"No, we have to talk about this."  
"Why? You were right. Hoyt fucked with my head, you fixed it. It's fine. I'm fine."  
"Then why are you being so strange? Nothing has to change, you know. We're adults, we're not-"

"Nothing has to _change_?" At this Jane twists to face Maura completely, incredulous. "Are you kidding me? _Everything_ just changed!"  
"It doesn't have to."  
"Are you-"  
"We're friends, we're best friends. I was helping you- you would have done the same…"

"…for you? _For you_, Maura? That's exactly the fucking problem!"

Maura looks confused and hurt now, blanket clutched in one hand, hair tousled, and Jane really just wants to kiss her and make her forget everything they've just said. She takes a brief second to compose herself so that her near-shout drops to a hoarse whisper.

"That's exactly the problem, don't you see? I would do anything for you. This was never about Hoyt, Maura. This- this was about you."

Maura blinks. Jane leans forward, searching for any kind of recognition in Maura's face, finding none.

"Everything that I do," she continues deliberately, "is for you. I didn't kill Hoyt to settle a score. I killed him to protect you. I looked into his eyes and I stabbed him right through the heart, to save _you_, and I'd do it again if I thought for a second you'd be in danger. I was supposed to protect you, and I failed. But, goddammit, he wasn't going to kill you. I made sure of that. And here I was," she pauses, seeing a flicker of something across Maura's features, "thinking that I was touching you, and kissing you, because you wanted me to. Yes. Everything has changed."

Then everything happens all at once. Maura gasps out her name and lurches gracelessly forward; they're kissing again, and Maura's _laughing._

"I didn't know," they say in tandem. Maura pulls Jane back down onto the bed beside her and kisses her again through a tearful smile. "I didn't know, Jane, I didn't want to assume, and I couldn't for the life of me imagine that you might-"

"Shut up," Jane says, then again. "Of course. Of course."

"I'm sorry I diagnosed you," Maura murmurs, but Jane can hear the smile in her voice and drapes an arm over her lover's waist, pulling her closer and pressing her lips to Maura's temple. "And on my birthday, too," Jane adds. "You weren't even right."

They kiss themselves into a sleepy stupor, stopping now and again to breath, to smile, and reaffirm what they both already know.

It might have happened by accident, but the accident was bound to happen.


End file.
